


Kissing Etiquette

by notbug (KageKashu)



Series: The Dragonborn Comes (Shouting as only an Uchiha can) [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Naruto
Genre: First Time, Kissing Lessons, M/M, Sexual Inexperience, taken to the extreme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 17:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18833779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KageKashu/pseuds/notbug
Summary: In which "grinding" is not a type of kiss, and apparently Tobirama doesn't even know what a kiss is. He sure thinks he does, though.Madara wishes he had a little more self control.





	Kissing Etiquette

**Author's Note:**

> Title based off of one of the books you find in game: "Mace Etiquette".

Tobirama always finds it odd, viewing people from so close. Madara’s lips are parted as he breathes, eyes closed and slightly sunken in repose. A lot of people have mentioned to Tobirama how strangely attractive they find Madara, for the faint golden cast of his skin to the exotic (a word that Tobirama finds slightly annoying) shape of his features.

He wonders how these people can find Madara attractive without even trying to know him. Madara is... He’s a passionate spirit, fierce and crude, and even the _daedra_ are drawn to him. Perhaps it isn’t so surprising that mortals are the same in this. Or perhaps they’re merely helpless against it. Tobirama doesn’t know.

His face is soft, squishy in that way that distinguishes men from mer - a form of distinguishment that Tobirama only recently learned to see. Elves are sharp and angular, where humans tend towards rounded or blocky shapes. Madara manages to look a little like both, and somehow like neither. Perhaps, Tobirama considers, he looks like the Akaviri once had. It makes him look particularly alien in Skyrim.

Tobirama wants to place his hands on Madara’s cheeks and feel the shape of his jaw. He’s held many skulls since entering Skyrim, and he suspects that Madara’s jaw will feel different under his palms.

He’s been thinking about Madara a lot, lately. He tripped across some books about human courting rituals at the library, and... Madara just happened to be what came to mind. The various members of the college seemed indulgent about his sudden interest in finding out what they knew on the subject as long as he kept his nose out of their personal business.

A bit of covert observation told him that same sex pairings are nearly as common as male/female pairings, and that the occasional interspecies couple aren’t an uncommon sight, either. J’zargo, on the other hand... The young khajiit is something of a flirt, though it took Tobirama quite some time to realize what kind of attention he was being given. Thankfully, J’zargo was fairly quick to take a hint when Tobirama expressed his own disinterest.

If Tobirama were to be interested in that manner, in _anyone_ , it would be Madara.

...Madara, who spent the better part of two weeks with him, chasing down clues of what happened the week before. Madara, who showed more of an interest in elves than his mutterings would suggest. Madara, _who_ , it seems, is good enough of a _sexual partner_ that a number of the previous week’s flings tried to tempt him back into their beds.

If Tobirama wants to learn about sex and courting, obviously Madara is the one to ask.

As soon as he wakes up.

* * *

Madara awakens with the warmth of a hand delicately framing his face, the pad of a thumb tracing his lips. It’s pleasant. So pleasant that he captures that hand before opening his eyes, making sure that the culprit knows that they’ve been caught. An annoyed grunt tells him that said culprit is Tobirama, and that Tobirama obviously didn’t think anything of what he was doing.

“Not protesting, but... It’s not polite to touch people’s faces when they’re sleeping,” he says, blinking until his eyes adjust to the light of the room.

“Why?” When he looks, Tobirama has that thoughtful frown he often acquires upon coming across customs that he doesn’t understand.

“Because most people don’t want to be touched while they’re sleeping?” Madara shrugs, then yawns while he starts to stretch. “One of those ‘don’t do things to people that you don’t want done to you’ things. Common..." He trails off to yawn again, before he can complete the phrase. “...courtesy.”

“But you’re awake now,” Tobirama says, tone thoughtful, and then he. Plants his face against Madara’s. And stays in that position while Madara blinks at him. Their faces are angled so that it isn’t quite _uncomfortable_ , not physically, ayway, but...

It’s so incredibly awkward, and Madara has no idea what Tobirama is doing, or why. Or why he isn’t pulling back, because this is. Too weird. Too close, seemingly without purpose. “What are you doing?”

With their faces pressed together like this, he can feel the way the muscles in Tobirama’s forehead move when he frowns. “Hm. This is more complicated than it looked. It was always implied to be _intuitive_.”

“What was implied to be intuitive?” he asks, trying not to pay attention to the way he can feel Tobirama’s pout. Their lips are... touching, on the sides, and he really, really needs to focus on something else.

“Kissing.”

“Wha..?” This was meant to be a kiss? Tobirama... meant to kiss him? And sure, their lips may be touching but... it’s at the corners, where it’s anything but a kiss. Madara carefully slips his hand between their faces, to push Tobirama back. “Okay, one. That wasn’t a kiss. I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t a kiss. Two... Why?”

Tobirama’s eyes narrow at him. “You seem to be experienced in such things, and must also be quite good at it, as well. You’re also the only person I would even consider doing that with. So..." He trails off, for once looking uncertain. “I’ve never considered... these aspects of mortal... association. But I’d like to... if you’re willing to teach me.”

It takes a moment for Madara to get his brain processing again. He’s not sure what Tobirama is asking of him. Does he want to learn how to kiss? Does he want... more? Is it just the learning of it he wants..? Which is _fine_ , but... Madara wants to know before he gets too worked up and involved. “I... It depends on... on what you want, really. Most people... asking for kisses are asking for other things too. Like. Relationships. Which is fine, I just. Need to know what you’re after here. I can’t... answer without knowing that.”

Why does he have a weakness to pouty elf face? As much as he usually dislikes elves on a personal basis - Tobirama being a rare exception - they’re more often stupidly attractive than humans. He supposes that it balances out. “I want to understand how it works,” Tobirama says. “Relationships... That’s like courtship, right? I wouldn’t need to learn about it if I wasn’t interested in the thought. And you’ve been the only one worth my time and effort.” He tilts his head with a soft “oh,” then leans back down. “It’s the face grinding thing I’m missing, right?”

Madara has to block him from pushing their faces together again. “No. That’s not what you’re missing, and if you try to ‘face grind’ me, I’m throwing you off the bed.” That sounds _painful_. “Look. I’m... willing to show you _a type_ of kiss, and... we’ll see from there, okay? It’s... not a bad way to test compatibility.”

“A type?” Tobirama repeats, brows puckering. “There’s multiple kinds of kisses? I thought they were all like _that_.”

Madara sighs, taking Tobirama’s face between his hands and tugging him just close enough for his purposes. “Kissing isn’t about the whole face. It’s the lips, mostly..." Such a little thing shouldn’t make his body buzz so. He hasn’t even done anything yet. He keeps it short and sweet, in spite of the way his body craves more than the simple press of his lips against Tobirama’s. “Like so,” he murmurs, pulling back with a shivery breath.

There’s a hint of pink on Tobirama’s pale cheeks, even though Tobirama’s lips never firmed to kiss back. Instead, he licks them, once, then leans in and... “Like this?” Damp and just firm enough to make a good shot at ruining Madara’s self control. Thankfully, he pulls away as quickly as he starts, or else Madara would be _pushing_.

“Yeah,” he manages, fighting down a groan. Trust Tobirama to be as quick of a study in this as in anything else. Likely the only reason he didn’t already know how to do any such thing has been a lack of interest up until now. “Like that..."

Of course, Tobirama does it again, this time lingering in a way that makes Madara’s toes curl. “What about other kinds of kisses?”

 _Gods_ \- Aedra and Daedra both... Madara swallows a whimper. He wants to. But... “Self-control is a thing,” he blurts out. Then an entirely different kind of groan escapes him. “I know you just. Want to know, but it’s _different for me_.” Tobirama, no doubt, sees absolutely no reason why they can’t just do whatever, because social norms aren’t a _thing_ for him. “I... I _am_ interested. With you, it wouldn’t just be over and done with. So I can’t just. Forge forward without, without _concerns_. Because I want to be able to talk to you afterwards!”

Tobirama only looks more and more baffled as Madara talks. “Madara, I don’t know how _kissing_ could make me not want to talk to you. You’re objectively the most interesting person I’ve met in Skyrim.”

That’s... Well. That’s possibly one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about him. Possibly. It depends on what Tobirama means by “interesting.” He sighs again, because at least _saying_ stupid things hasn’t gotten Tobirama to avoid him yet. “Less because of you, than because I’ll get stupid and embarrassed, because this is one of those things that _normal people_ get embarrassed about. Then again, knowing you, you wouldn’t let me mope about it. That’s. Probably a good thing.”

Tobirama rolls his eyes. “I have the room until this evening,” he says. “Privacy is preferred for this kind of thing, right? Now that you’re over your illogical... avoidance? I’m still interested.”

“I’m not _over it_ ,” Madara complains. “You were seriously considering _grinding your face_ against mine. I’m not going to forget that. That would be... really, really uncomfortable at best.”

Tobirama is pouting again. “That’s strange. I could have sworn that ‘grinding’ was a sexual act?”

Madara chokes, automatically pushing Tobirama off the bed, even as he sputters. “That’s. An entirely different thing, you absolute _fucker_. Just for that, I need a drink. I’ll... be back in ten minutes, if I haven’t run off to find out what that guard saw at Shimmermist Cave.”

He wasn’t serious about Shimmermist Cave, not really, but he was serious about the drink. Hulda gives him an arch look when Madara asks for the strongest of whatever she has, and tells him that while she doesn’t know what that mage gave him, she’s pretty sure it wasn’t as strong as the strongest of her products. She has a line to some imports in Solitude, she says, some of which are very rare... and perhaps, she hints, not entirely legal.

He doesn’t need that kind of fuckery right now, so insists on perfectly legal, but strong. Hulda asks not so sneaky questions about him and Tobirama - why do innkeepers always ask questions that he doesn’t want to answer? They’re great sources for rumors, but _damn_ if he would share anything private. “Tell me what you’re drinking for, and I’ll decide how strong you need,” she says, smirking. “At a discount.”

That’s tempting. He has to check how much money he’s carrying on him, anyway. It isn’t _his_ embarrassment, anyway. And Tobirama is hardly the sort to _be_ embarrassed. “So. Idiot upstairs thinks grinding is a type of kissing. How much of a discount does that get me?”

She pulls a really intriguing face - Nords can be hilariously expressive. “That’s a doozy. They can be connected, but they aren’t the same at all.”

“If they’re connected, I don’t see what the problem is,” Tobirama’s voice drifts from above, and Madara looks up to see him frowning over the edge of the balcony.

“She’s not talking about face grinding, Tobirama,” Madara replies, and Hulda begins snickering. He’s... glad that he managed to be here on a slow morning. “And until we get past _kissing_ , I don’t think you’re ready for ‘grinding’! Just accept that you had it really, really wrong.”

“Fine. Bring me some mead when you come back up, then,” Tobirama huffs, then returns to the room. Madara can’t even hear the door shut over Hulda’s laughter.

“Face grinding?” she asks, pouring him something bright amber. “I think that deserves a free drink. And a bottle of mead for your friend.”

She’s still laughing when he goes back upstairs.

“Face grinding,” Madara says, when Tobirama starts to open his mouth. “Very uncomfortable. Not sexy. Most things to do with the face shouldn’t involve grinding... Unless you’re secretly a woman, you can’t... yeah. That’s. About the only way that would. Anyway. I hope you’re not secretly a woman?”

“I’m not secretly a woman, if by which you mean having breasts - strange mammalian protrusions - and no dick.” The wording draws out a laugh from Madara, and Tobirama... he just pouts some more. “Explain grinding and why it’s a sexual act if it doesn’t connect to kissing?”

“I. Really don’t think you’re ready for this. _I’m_ not ready for this!” He sits next to Tobirama anyway. “You don’t... somehow think that all ‘sexual acts’ are basically kissing, do you?”

“I’ve seen animals copulate,” Tobirama says. “I’m _aware_ of how it’s done. Kissing is just... unique to... mortal peoples. And maybe the daedra? Beings with a similar form, anyway.”

This is way worse than Madara thought. “Why are you contemplating the sexual habits of _daedra_ , anyway?”

“I felt it would be rude to exclude them?”

He has to drink his booze before a fit of laughter overcomes him. He chokes a little on it, but it’s worth it. “Okay. Normal stuff, I can... sort of explain and... show. And I know someone in Riften who can explain everything else.” Whatever Hulda gave him, _it’s strong_ , and he can already _feel it_. He keeps Tobirama at arm’s length when he shouts his thanks to the innkeeper.

She calls back, “It’s _Hulda_ , not Hulda!”

Nonplussed, Madara blinks. “Could you hear the difference between those?” he asks Tobirama, because _he_ can’t... Not that he thinks it’s important. At the moment, it’s just a distraction from that look that Tobirama is giving him.

“Yes,” Tobirama says, then the bastard takes his cup from him, and places it on the bedside table. Without giving Madara a chance to do more than squawk at him, Tobirama shoves him down, onto his back, and in one smooth movement, straddles his hips. “I did say that I have the room all day, but I’m not that patient.”

For a moment, Madara can’t think at all, the heat across his lap has all of his attention. He wants to show Tobirama what ‘grinding’ really is, and his hands clench at his sides against the urge to grab those narrow hips and just drag Tobirama’s weight into him. The inn, very suddenly, doesn’t feel private enough. He opens his mouth to speak, but Tobirama beats him to it.

“That reaction,” he says, cupping Madara’s jaw with a warm palm. He licks his lips, leaning closer, rocking, ever so slightly and probably unintentionally, in Madara’s lap. “What caused it?”

Madara swears in three different languages, trying to force himself to focus. Control. Self-control is still a thing, or so he tells himself. “I have a house, here in Whiterun,” he manages, not able to make himself push Tobirama back when the elf nuzzles up to his face, briefly pressing their lips together. “Mmm... I could kick out Lydia, then we’d have more privacy and all the time we need...”

Tobirama’s weight shifts, just enough to feel so very good. Watching Madara’s face, he does it again, and this time Madara can’t help but clutch at his thighs, bucking up against the warmth of him. Tobirama grunts, caught by surprise - but not unaffected, if the growing flush on his face is any indication. “...privacy, hmm?” he asks, breathless. “Doesn’t the inn seem private enough..?”

...It really does. Madara’s nearly beyond the point of caring that they might be heard if he lets this continue. Nearly. “There’ll be no time limit,” Madara murmurs. His voice is thick in his throat, but he’s sure that that can be excused, given his current position. “And I’ll have a chance to clear my head.”

Tobirama laughs, nuzzles in for another kiss. “An exercise in futility,” he tells Madara. “But I’ll indulge you... if you let me look at that strange staff you’ve gotten, on the way over.”

* * *

Examining the Sanguine Rose does little to distract Tobirama from the burning of his blood, the way every breath is strangely titillating. Much of the sensation is centered in his groin, which makes walking awkward. The bustle of the market, and occasional shouts of children help to cool his blood, and, it seems, his head, giving credence to Madara’s words.

He’s more inclined to analyze the feelings that kissing inspired - though in retrospect, he’s certain that it was a combination of factors, such as the closeness of their bodies, and the way Madara’s hips rocked beneath his. Even the shade of the sensation, brought on by memory, is enough to cause his breath to hitch.

When they get to Breezehome - as lovely a house as Whiterun has to offer, as far as he can tell - he gets to enjoy Madara’s strident attempts to oust his housecarl. If there’s one trait of Madara’s that Tobirama finds truly attractive, it’s his voice. Pleasantly deep, though he hasn’t yet mastered the nordic inflections of the Empire’s common tongue - and there’s something thrilling about it, when he raises his voice.

And hearing him Shout... Tobirama could feel it in his bones, no matter how well directed it was. It’s... interesting to contemplate, while sitting in Madara’s bed, listening to him try to browbeat his housecarl into leaving for the day.

(He wants to hear it, feel it again. Not just skimming past his shoulder, but full force. Which... probably isn’t wise. He doubts this form is built to take it. In the meantime, he can imagine the way it might feel. And the Thu’um can take many forms, so it isn’t only **fus** that he might hear. Feel.)

He wishes that the staff could hold his interest, but he’s seen its ilk before. Daedric artifacts might not be thick on the ground, but he’s been around longer than his countenance would suggest.

That doesn’t mean he’s ever had certain opportunities, however. Or if he did, he hadn’t been interested at the time. Madara, however, is _different_ , in that he is interesting. Tobirama wants to continue their “lesson,” already infatuated with the feeling of their bodies being so close together.

Finally, Madara stomps back upstairs, having successfully sent Lydia away - for how long, Tobirama didn’t catch - and stands in the doorway, bewildered and watching Tobirama. Like Tobirama is doing something unexpected.

He rolls his eyes - an annoying habit that he isn’t sure where he picked up - and sets the staff aside. Beckons Madara closer, because he still wants... more than the “lessons” - although calling it that is becoming a stretch. Yes, he wants to learn about kissing and mortal sexual practices... from _Madara_. Only Madara.

The thought of even trying kissing with _anyone_ else fills him with a vague disgust. He doesn’t know _why_ , but suspects that Madara will be able to tell him. “I didn’t have much opinion on it, before you showed me kissing,” he starts, trying to bring his thoughts to some semblance of order. “But contemplating kissing others is... I don’t like _that_. _You_ , I want, but anyone else is..." He falls silent to Madara’s fingers on his lips - another sensation that he likes - but forces himself to continue. “I don’t want to talk to this person in Riften. I want _you_.”

“Alright.” It’s soft, but a clear concession. Madara sits next to him, allowing himself to fall backward onto the bed. Tugs Tobirama to lay next to him. “That’s the way it is for some people. I’m... flattered that it’s me. If that changes though... that’s fine too.”

A soft growl of annoyance slips out of him, and Tobirama rolls over to bodily pin Madara to the bed. “My mind doesn’t change with the seasons,” he snaps, even as he tries to reel himself back. He’s too close to saying things that he knows better than to share. Even with Madara. Perhaps especially with Madara. “I haven’t even cared of such things in my entire life, but then all I could think of was _you_. The only way that will change is if you turn me away, and perhaps not even then!”

Those dark eyes are flared wide, but Madara still takes his face between his hands - again, and it makes his blood sing, remembering what Madara did last time - and pulls him down to kiss. It isn’t as soft, as gentle, as before. It’s wetter, and sucking and greedy, and it draws a deep groan from Tobirama’s throat.

He doesn’t have _words_ for how good it feels, for the way his lips and tongue tingle, making his cheeks prickle with heat. It’s a shock that goes straight down his spine, making fire bloom in his gut and his thighs tense in anticipation. His body knows things he doesn’t, moves without his say, rocking against Madara like before. And just like before, there’s a lightning sharp bolt of pleasure each time he puts pressure on his groin.

Madara gasps against his mouth, dropping his hands to Tobirama’s hips. Infuriatingly, he only holds him still, and Tobirama squirms in his grip. “Are you sure you’re... ready for that?”

Frustrated, Tobirama groans again, squirming harder. “It feels good. I _want more_.” Madara’s hips jerk beneath him, and the man whimpers. Tobirama scrabbles at Madara’s belt, and Madara’s hips jerk upwards again, rubbing their groins together. “Like that,” Tobirama says, and finally, he manages to undo the belt clasp.

Madara swears at him again, or perhaps at himself, and rolls them over, in an unexpected motion. He’s heavy between Tobirama’s legs, but... It’s exactly what his body wants and he thinks that he finally gets what ‘grinding’ is, and it definitely doesn’t involve his face. His hips roll against Madara’s, and his legs... He doesn’t know if he wants to wrap them around Madara’s hips or spread them wide, to better feel Madara.

Then Madara sits up, and Tobirama whines desperately, lunging after him, grabbing his shirt to try to pull him back down. (For all he knows, he’s made some kind of misstep, and that’s why Madara’s pulling away. He swears, he’ll pay more attention to social cues from here on out, even if they’re stupid and useless, because he just _wants Madara close_.)

Madara catches his hands, shushing him. “I’m not going anywhere. I just..." He presses a kiss to Tobirama’s knuckles, much to his confusion. “If you’re... I mean, you certainly seem to be pushing for sex. So if that’s what you want... It’s pretty obvious it’ll be your first time, so I want to... make sure to do it right.”

Tobirama’s mouth opens and closes, as he realizes that he isn’t certain _how_ same sex couples copulate. Or even if they _do_ , in the manner he knows of. If they do, if they _can_ , he wants to try.

Madara shrugs off the shoulders of his robe, then untucks his tunic, to pull it up and off, and... Tobirama’s hands are sliding up his belly before it’s even fully exposed. He can feel the muscles tremble beneath his fingers, and is amused by the coarse hair - copious, for a human, and it makes Tobirama want to comment, to ask if Madara is part troll, or something.

But Madara’s hands catch his again, once the trembling muscles start twitching. “Gods, Tobirama... That tickles! Not. Not conducive to what you want. If. If you must, then you should be... firmer. It won’t tickle as much.”

Firmer. He can do firmer. He lets his hands splay flat on Madara’s belly, smoothing up through the hair, feeling the shapes of his muscles. Madara’s abdominal muscles are just prominent enough to _feel_ , and he finds that he _likes it_. But the tunic is gone, now, and there’s more to explore.

Amusingly, his chest is even hairier, but the muscles beneath are solid, and lovely, and Madara squirms from his touch, swearing and laughing at once. It’s an interesting reaction, and Tobirama wants to figure out what caused it, but Madara captures his hands again, leans down and kisses him. “You’re very tactile,” Madara murmurs after a moment, smirking against Tobirama’s lips. “It’s... good.”

“Then why do you stop me?” Tobirama pouts. He wants to touch every inch of skin, and bury his hands in Madara’s hair and... Now that’s a thought. The instant his hands are free again - with Madara pushing at Tobirama’s clothes - he slides them up Madara’s back which is... It feels so good under his hands, but it’s not his goal.

Madara’s hair is a thick and silky mess, tangling his fingers even as he grasps two handfuls, intent to use them to steer Madara how he wants him. Which... Madara’s kisses have left his lips, but... his neck... Tobirama wouldn’t have guessed that that part of his neck would be sensitive, but it _is_. It’s so sensitive that he can’t focus on what he was doing, hands remaining clenched, uselessly, in Madara’s hair while Madara sucks at the skin beneath his ear.

He can’t stop the way his legs clamp around Madara’s hips, or the way his body twists in his hold. Madara’s hands are on his skin now, too. Hot points of pressure, doing little beyond holding him close.

It’s strangely overwhelming, how _good_ it feels. More of that lightning sharp pleasure in his gut, but it’s an entirely different kind of shock when Madara pulls back again. He doesn’t have a chance to protest, because then Madara’s mouth is on his stomach - when did his tunic ride up so far? - and thought is completely chased from his head in favor of chasing the sensations Madara gives him.

He squirms for more pressure, and gets sharp nips instead, on the soft flesh of his belly, and his hips pinned by strong hands. Something comes out of his mouth that doesn’t sound like it belongs in an elf’s mouth, and he nearly freezes. Madara only chuckles, the sound vibrating where his lips rest.

Another choked sound, and Tobirama clenches his jaw tight, determined not to... to do whatever it was he almost did, be it a roar or a shout. That probably wouldn’t be good. Madara doesn’t seem to worry about what sound did escape, so... whining and growling is probably fine. But nothing louder, he tells himself.

Licking is grooming behavior, but kissing seems... as long as one person uses their lips, it still seems to be kissing. It didn’t occur to him at all that Madara might kiss his belly, much less... Tobirama strangles back a cry at a new sensation, one that makes everything else seem like _nothing_ , by comparison.

He didn’t expect his trousers to be pushed down. He didn’t expect Madara’s mouth on his _cock_. And while he was quite aware that he’s extremely sensitive there, and that it’s used for copulation... He misjudged _how_ sensitive it would be, by several orders of magnitude. Worse, he wasn’t _expecting_ this, even though the lead up, in retrospect, should have been obvious.

Garbled words - normal words, the common tongue, though unintelligible - spill from his lips, and his hips jerk roughly in Madara’s hold. Hot wet pressure pulls at his cock, and it’s so intense that he can’t think, can’t react properly. His hands are still twisted in Madara’s hair, and Madara only groans when he yanks at it, directionless.

“Madara,” he pants, whines. Has to catch himself before he starts begging, commanding - no one should ever command Madara, he thinks, mind hazy. Controlling his own voice is difficult, with the way pleasure builds up, with the way Madara’s mouth is... He can’t even focus enough to tell what, exactly, Madara’s doing (beyond the obvious), only that it’s good and he doesn’t want him to stop, ever.

He’s completely unprepared for the amazing pressure within to reach a peak, but somehow manages to shove a fist into his mouth to keep himself quiet as the world turns into fractals and a roaring buzz in his ears. His own body jerks, beyond his ability to control, and it feels so good it nearly _hurts_.

And then it does, it aches, even though it still feels good, and he doesn’t know how to respond to it anymore. Hears a whimper that might be his own voice, over and over, “Too much, I can’t, too much! Madara..! Please..!”

Slowly, Madara pulls back, only to plant his face against Tobirama’s stomach again, murmuring apologies in a thick, lusty voice that sends another strange shock up Tobirama’s spine. He nuzzles there, and... one of his hands is missing, no longer pinning Tobirama’s hips.

It takes Madara’s sounds - muted grunts against Tobirama’s belly, soft gasps and shivering breaths - for Tobirama to realize why. There’s something flattering, pleasing in a way that has little to do with physical pleasure, about knowing that Madara is probably fucking his own hand right now.

Strangely, he barely has the energy to pet Madara’s hair, in spite of the fact that he was just laying on his back, not doing anything beyond being pinned and... enjoying Madara’s attentions. But Madara’s hair is still soft beneath his fingers, and Madara seems to enjoy Tobirama’s tugging. Madara stops moving with a muffled shout - the ordinary kind, though it still feels interesting against Tobirama’s belly - and collapses against him.

Madara’s muttering again, but now it seems to be flattery, praise. It’s... pleasant. Tobirama likes it. He likes _this_. It’s warm and comfortable, vulnerable yet... safe. Unfamiliar, but... It’s _Madara_. Everything about Madara is like that, it seems.

After a while, Madara’s shoulders shake, and he draws himself up, so that he can look down on Tobirama. His hair is a glorious mess, one of Tobirama’s hands still buried in it. Tobirama can’t read his expression, but doesn’t mind. It’s Madara. If he decides, suddenly, to be embarrassed again, it’s fine. Tobirama will wait it out... as long as he doesn’t take too long about it.

As long as Madara is content with what just happened, Tobirama is... pleased. Madara’s expression shifts into something more familiar - mild exasperation - and he leans down to kiss Tobirama’s lips again.

A happy groan slips out between them. Tobirama could do this forever, he thinks. Just lay together with Madara, lips and tongues gently exploring each other, basking in a post orgasmic haze.

He suspects that Madara is working up to have another talk about cultural expectations. Which... well. He did promise, albeit silently, to try harder in the future.

He’ll distract Madara for as long as he can, in the meantime.

(He has something that he really, really needs to tell Madara, anyway. Even if he doesn’t want to. Even if he’s afraid. But if Madara is willing to try this relationship thing, to culminate courtship... then he deserves to know. But oh, how Tobirama doesn’t want to tell him.)

**Author's Note:**

> I can't think of anything that needs an explanation, but if you see anything confusing, just let me know, and I'll add it here!


End file.
